


brokest of the broke, baby

by blushao (horizsan)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: High School AU, M/M, No Sexual Content, Really cute, This is cute too, also happy jun day!, class president!minghao, i am back to revive the junhao tag yet again, if i'm not funny don't tell me i like to live in ignorant bliss, soccer captain!junhui, this is humor i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24525586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horizsan/pseuds/blushao
Summary: In which Minghao is the sassy no-nonsense class president and Junhui is the captain of the soccer team who seems to exist just to annoy Minghao and ask for things he knows damn well Minghao can’t give him.
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 13
Kudos: 105





	brokest of the broke, baby

**Author's Note:**

> note: in this, all of the members of svt are seniors in high school. also, this is technically set in south korea, but i know next to nothing about korean school systems and how they work, so if there are inaccuracies, do forgive me. also, three thousand won is roughly $2.50.
> 
> warnings: lots of profanity, and i use italics to emphasize words entirely too much. also one slightly sexual comment, i guess? it's there somewhere.
> 
> happy jun day!!!! i finished writing this on june 2nd, even though i said i was gonna focus on my schoolwork, cause i wanted to post something for jun's birthday, and here we are! i hope you enjoy reading this, and i love you all <3
> 
> ~ abby

Xu Minghao has never liked Wen Junhui (well, not never, but once their senior year started, Junhui sort of ruined his own impression on Minghao). It’s been sort of like a rule for Minghao since they first met a few months ago, when Junhui hit Minghao with his car. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration. He didn’t necessarily hit Minghao with his car, but he did run over Minghao’s foot, with no previous provocation to do so. It was an accident, and Minghao had forgiven him (he sort of had to, given that Junhui had been nice enough to drive him to the hospital), but that was the day that Minghao made this rule for himself: he’s not allowed to like Wen Junhui in any way, shape, form, universe, whatever.

It happened back when Minghao was running for senior class president at the end of their junior year a few months ago, feverish in his campaigning, wanting the position more than anything else at the time. He had been walking through the student section of the parking lot by the soccer fields, tucking VOTE FOR ME flyers behind people’s windshield wipers like the slips of paper were parking tickets. He had been leaning over the hood of someone’s ugly silver Prius struggling to slip a flyer behind their wipers, his left foot stuck out slightly, directly in the path of the car next to this Prius, which Minghao did not notice was backing out. And apparently, the driver, which Minghao would find out in a few minutes was Junhui, didn’t notice his foot there either. Thus, the car’s wheels rolled right over Minghao’s foot, resulting in excruciating pain and anger like none Minghao had ever felt before. Junhui however, had possessed the human decency to immediately jump out of his car, screaming just as loud as Minghao was, if not louder, and proceed to pick Minghao up, bridal style, put him in the backseat of his car, and drive him to the hospital.

This action was dangerous for Minghao. If there was one thing he was very much drawn to, it was guys who weren’t assholes. Thankfully, once the whole foot incident was over and Minghao won the election and became senior class president, this problem was solved. Junhui became the biggest asshole Minghao is sure he has ever met, like, _ever_ . However, it wasn’t your typical cliché bad boy, motorcycle driving, leather jacket wearing type of asshole, no. And it wasn’t your “football captain who’s dating a cheerleader who’s mean to all the nerds just because he’s jealous his grades are hanging on by a thread” kind of asshole either. No, Wen Junhui became the “soccer team captain who annoys the absolute _fuck_ out of the class president just because he can” kind of asshole.

The things Wen Junhui did to annoy Minghao would have been tolerable, or at least slightly so, if they didn’t go to the school they did. Oh, how Minghao wished their school was a high-end private institution, with plenty of money to blow from all the rich parents who’d donated libraries or whatever in past years. This was, sadly, not the case. Instead, they went to what Minghao believed to quite literally be the shittiest public school in all of South Korea, with the tiniest budget possible.

Minghao, as senior class president, had a little bit of say in how they spent said budget, which meant that at every student council meeting, he had the leaders of every club under the sun and the captains of sports teams he didn’t even know fucking _existed_ (seriously, what public high school has a fucking _golf_ team?) begging him to force administration to spend money on them. It was a damn good thing Minghao was no pushover, and neither was his vice president, Yoon Jeonghan, or his secretary, Jeon Wonwoo. If the entire student council were their treasurer, Hong Jisoo, a notorious people pleaser, the school’s entire budget would have been gone by the time the first week of school had ended.

However, the way in which Wen Junhui chose to exact torture upon Minghao was by bringing half the fucking soccer team to every student council meeting possible, and giving its four members his best puppy dog eyes, and asking for things he surely knew damn well they couldn’t give him (for example, new team uniforms, or new goals on the fields, they simply didn’t have the money in the budget for that). And of course, every single member of Minghao’s council except for Minghao himself had a crush on one of those soccer players. Minghao was absolutely terrified by how much Wonwoo’s stone-cold demeanor could be softened by just one canine-showing smile from Kim Mingyu, so every time Junhui brought Mingyu with him (no doubt knowing exactly what advantage his teammate gave him), Minghao scrambled to find a reason to make Mingyu leave.

The poison that brought Jisoo down (besides the boy’s own too-nice-to-say-no personality) was the team’s star forward, Lee Seokmin, who Minghao absolutely hated (seriously, how does a person manage to smile constantly, doesn’t that hurt your face?). As for Jeonghan, his pick of the draw just so happened to be Choi Seungcheol, the _only_ person (on Earth, Minghao is sure) who can do puppy dog eyes better than Mingyu. And every student council meeting that the soccer team showed up to, Minghao was stuck being the only one with an ounce of sanity left in his bloodstream, the only one fighting to keep the school’s already scanty budget from becoming next to nonexistent. And this afternoon just so happens to be one of those meetings.

Thankfully, Junhui and his entourage haven’t shown up yet, but Minghao has no doubt they will. There’s a tournament coming up for the soccer team, and Minghao knows they’ll come to him at some point with demands he’ll be unable to meet, just like always. He’s sitting at one of the desks in the economics teacher’s classroom, where their meetings are held, trying to organize the pile of graded papers he’d been handed by his pre-calculus teacher not even two seconds before the bell rang and he had to bolt. Time management is something Minghao thinks that his teacher desperately needs to learn. _I mean, come on, you have eighty minutes of class time, and you try to hand out a ton of graded papers to a class of 30 students in the two minutes before the bell rings?_

Wonwoo walks into the room, sitting down on top of the desk to Minghao’s left (because apparently only straight people use chairs as a surface to sit on, a fact Wonwoo constantly feels the need to remind him of), tossing his backpack onto the floor and heaving a sigh that sends shivers down Minghao’s spine. “I’ve had such an exhausting day that I just threw my laptop onto the floor and I don’t even care.”

Minghao looks up from organizing his papers in order by the date meticulously written in the top right corner to meet Wonwoo’s eyes for a split second, and half-heartedly asks, “What happened?”

“Too much. My sociology teacher really thinks that we’ll be able to get a twenty page research paper done in a week on top of all the responsibilities and other work that we have, I barely passed my latest quiz in chemistry, and my statistics teacher decided that we’re going to have our unit test on probability tomorrow instead of on Friday, so now the study plan I made is _fucking_ useless and I’m gonna have to do all the practice problem sets I printed out in one night.” Wonwoo lets his head fall back dramatically, heaving another sigh so deep that it makes Minghao feel like he’s also frustrated.

All Minghao offers up in response is a muttered, “ _Damn_.”

Jeonghan, who Minghao didn’t even notice was in the room (probably because he was perched like a cat on top of the filing cabinet in the corner), has a sharp mocking tone to his voice as he exclaims, “Oh, woe is me! Whatever shall I do, I’m a senior in high school and I have _work_ to do?! This is an abomination!”

Wonwoo whips his head around, and snaps, “Oh, shut up, Jeonghan. You act like you’ve never been stressed before.” It’s at this exact moment that Jisoo walks through the door, his hair slightly mussed compared to the pristine state Minghao had seen it in that morning in their English class.

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late, I was coming from the gym.”

Minghao finally finishes putting his papers in chronological order, sticks them in his folder, and says, “Nah, you’re good. No complainers have showed up yet, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Minghao looks up at the doorway to discover that he’s spoken too soon. There are three people standing just outside the classroom, one of them sporting a sinister smile and looking straight at Minghao. _Just fucking peachy, it’s all three members of the robotics club._

Lee Jihoon, the leader of the aforementioned robotics club, says, “Hi, Minghao! We just need one quick thing, we won’t bother you too much. From what Soonyoung told me in physics, the soccer team is gonna give you guys hell today.”

Minghao heaves a sigh and rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Well, that’s great. Just perfect.” He beckons them into the room, straightening his tie and making sure the school uniform blazer (which is an absolutely hideous shade of royal blue, if you were wondering) rests properly on his shoulders. Wonwoo takes out the notebook he uses to keep the record of their meetings, producing a fountain pen from the chest pocket on his blazer and using his teeth to pull the cap off with a quiet popping sound. Jeonghan hops down from the filing cabinet and switches his perch to the desk on Minghao’s right, and Jisoo sits down in the chair attached to said desk. Minghao sits up straighter, and asks, “So, what do you need?”

Jihoon moves to stand directly in front of Minghao’s desk, and his two members, Lee Chan and Boo Seungkwan, trail after him to flank the boy on either side. “We literally just need like three thousand won to print flyers to publicize the club. We’re all seniors, and we’re the only members. We need to bring in younger members to keep the club alive after we graduate.”

Jeonghan snorts, and says, “Sorry, but I think the robotics club has been dead for years. I mean, come on, you guys are the only members, and you don’t even have enough people to be able to go to competitions, so you just build and program robots even though you can’t do anything with them.”

Jihoon glares at Jeonghan, and snaps, “That’s the point of the flyers. We’re trying to revive the club.”

Minghao holds a hand up as a signal for Jeonghan to keep his mouth shut for a second, and asks, “Can’t you guys just pay for that out of your own pockets? I mean, come on, it’s three thousand won, that’s nothing.”

At this, Seungkwan indignantly replies, shaking his finger at Minghao like an angry grandmother. “First of all, it’s awfully bold of you to assume I’m not broke. Second of all, expenses like this are required to be paid for by the school, they can’t come out of our own pockets even if we could pay for them, which by the way, we can’t.”

The economics teacher, who has been half-asleep at his desk since Minghao entered the room, wakes up for a moment to throw out a, “Seungkwan is right,” before putting his head straight back down on his arms.

Minghao blows a puff of air out of his nostrils, and slumps down in his seat a little. He’s been defeated not even two minutes into the meeting. “Fine, fine, I’ll put in a good word for you at the next board meeting.” He waves both his hands at the robotics club, and says, “Now, shoo. Go on, out.”

Minghao doesn’t even get two minutes to breathe before a quarter of the soccer team bursts into the room. Literally, bursts, considering three of them tried to go through the doorway side by side, and poor Seokmin, who was in the middle, ended up getting shoved forward and is now face down on the floor. Minghao slumps down even further in his seat, resisting the sudden urge to punch Jisoo, who is currently kneeling on the floor next to Seokmin, making heart eyes at him and asking if he’s okay. He looks back up at the doorway and meets the eyes of none other than Wen Junhui, who is currently wearing an evil smirk.

Minghao narrows his eyes in what he hopes looks like a death glare to Junhui, and says, “What do you want this time, Jun?”

“I’m doing fine, Hao, how are you? See, that’s how you properly start a conversation, darling.” Junhui walks into the room and leans over Minghao’s desk, resting his body weight on his left arm, his left hand placed next to where Minghao’s tightly folded hands are.

Minghao lifts a hand and places it in the center of Junhui’s chest, shoving him backwards. “I _said_ , what do you want? You and your friends show up to these meetings all the time just to waste my time and everyone else’s, and it’s _beyond_ annoying.”

Junhui chuckles, and puts his hand right back where it had been before Minghao pushed him away. He leans down to whisper in Minghao’s ear, “Good, it’s working.”

Minghao shoves him away again, harder this time, and snaps, “That’s your goal with all of this, Junhui? To fucking annoy me? Seriously?”

The economics teacher half-heartedly mumbles, “No swearing,” but it’s painfully obvious he doesn’t actually give a shit.

Junhui smirks again, and whispers, “Yes, sir.”

Minghao closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, just like his mother always told him to do whenever he got angry as a kid. He opens his eyes again, and looks straight at Junhui, his dark eyes stone cold and unforgiving. “What do you want?”

“So...we have a tourney coming up, which I’m sure you’re aware of. We would like to request two buses instead of one.”

“What the hell do you need two buses for? The soccer team’s not that big.”

Junhui places his hands on his hips, and exclaims, “Yes, it is that big!”

Minghao rolls his eyes, and shoots back, “It isn’t. You only need to bring the players who are actually somewhat competent and sort of know what they’re doing to the tournament, therefore, you only need half a bus. I rest my case.”

Jeonghan interjects, “And tell me, Minghao, where the fuck are we gonna find half a bus?”

“I’m not saying we give them half a bus, you dumbass, I’m saying that they definitely don’t need two buses. Case closed. We’re done here. Goodbye. Clear out.”

Junhui doesn’t clear out. He tries to keep arguing. “What about spectators?”

Minghao deadpans, “You’re not even allowed to _bring_ spectators, Junhui. The soccer team is specially excused from class for the tournaments, but if you’re not on the soccer team, you can’t go. Nice try.”

Junhui sticks out his bottom lip in a pout, and gives Minghao his very best puppy dog eyes. “Aw, come on, Minghao, pretty please? Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“I’m allergic to cherries, and you know your puppy dog eyes don’t work on me.”

“Pretty pretty please with sugar on top?”

“No.”

Junhui pokes Seungcheol in the side of his rib cage, and the boy immediately turns on the charm in Jeonghan’s direction. Minghao swears under his breath, and aggressively mouths at Junhui, “That’s cheating!”

Junhui, out loud, replies, “It’s not cheating if it works, darling.”

Jeonghan looks down at Minghao with puppy dog eyes of his own, and whines, “Aw, come on, Minghao, the soccer team _is_ really big.”

Minghao snaps, “You turn into such a pushover when Seungcheol is involved, goddamn. And, no. It’s not happening. It can’t. We don’t have the money in the budget for that unless we want to terminate the robotics club, golf team, _and_ lacrosse team.”

“It’s not like they’d be missed.”

“Oh, shut _up_ , Hansol, or I’ll have the soccer team shut down!”

“You can’t even _do_ that!”

“Yes, I fucking _can_! And it doesn’t matter, you’re not getting two buses for the tournament. I don’t know if you haven’t noticed what school you go to, but we’re the brokest of the broke, baby!”

It’s here that Junhui interjects, waving his arms wildly in the air, standing between Minghao and Hansol. “Stop it, both of you! Minghao’s right.”

Hansol looks at Junhui with wide doe eyes, and his voice is a lot quieter now as he says, “You told us to fight until they gave up, so that was what I was doing…”

Junhui casts his gaze down to his cleats, which he definitely wasn’t supposed to be wearing inside the school building, and mutters, “Yeah, well, I’m an idiot.” He waves a hand, and adds, “All of you head back down to the fields and start kicking drills, I need to talk to Minghao.”

“You need to talk to me about what?”

Junhui grabs Minghao’s wrist in one hand, and unceremoniously pulls him out of his seat and drags him out of the classroom. Junhui looks around to make sure the soccer team is out of earshot, they’re far enough away from the classroom to avoid being heard, and that no one else is in the hallway around them. He ducks between two banks of lockers, and lets go of Minghao’s hand.

Junhui sighs, and his eyes flicker from place to place like haphazard laser pointers, looking anywhere but at Minghao. “I’m really sorry. I’m just really, really _fucking_ sorry. I-” He cuts himself off, pausing for a second, probably to gather the words he wants to say before he blurts out something he doesn’t mean. “I’ll be honest, I was doing it to get your attention, and it backfired really bad, and _God_ , I’m such a _fucking_ idiot.”

Minghao feels nothing except confusion. That’s the only feeling that’s coursing through his veins right now, and in a weird sort of way, it burns. He stutters a bit, his tongue tripping over itself as he splutters, “Why would you want my attention?”

Junhui finally meets Minghao’s eyes, and his lips curve up in a soft smile as he asks, “Why wouldn’t I want your attention, Minghao? When I ran over your foot with my car and took you to the hospital, I thought that was the universe giving me a perfect opening, a perfect chance, a perfect time to shoot my shot, and I was dumb enough to think that after that was over, you would still want to be around me, so I didn’t take that chance when I could have. And so I had to find another way to be near you and get your attention somehow so I could take that shot eventually, and I think it’s gone too far in the wrong direction and I’ve managed to fuck this up.”

Minghao’s jaw drops open, and he stands there frozen like he’s no more than a mannequin, his blood and bones having turned to ice. He says nothing. He’s not even sure what he would say if his throat didn’t feel too dry for him to speak. _I mean, come on, what the hell does he expect me to say? What does he want me to say?_

Junhui’s eyes change, the smile dropping from his lips as the silence drags on. His voice hitches for a moment, like it tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, and he breathes out, “Minghao, please say something.” Minghao still says nothing. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to say anything, because God knows he’s got at least a few choice words to say. It’s just...he _can’t_ . Junhui raises his voice to a volume above a whisper but still not loud enough to echo through the hallways (curse their good acoustics), which Minghao is grateful for, because he genuinely thinks he would rather die than have someone overhear the conversation they’re having right now. “Minghao, I don’t even care if you say you hate me, just please say _something_.”

Minghao finally forces his voice to work, and he looks down at a lone half of a broken pencil on the floor to avoid meeting Junhui’s horribly sad-looking eyes as he manages to get out, “I don’t hate you, necessarily.” Minghao feels a lot like that half of a pencil right about now. It’s like his body is this half, and his brain and vocal chords are the other half, somewhere far far away and Minghao has absolutely no fucking clue where they’ve gone, he just knows they’re separated.

“Well, if you don’t hate me, then how do you feel about me?”

Minghao looks away from that half of a pencil, and scans the floor looking for a fully put-together pencil to identify with. There’s got to be one somewhere, and he needs to regain the ability to speak before this whole conversation goes horribly wrong. His gaze zeroes in on a mechanical pencil that’s almost tucked out of view underneath the overhang between the locker and the floor. _Aha, there’s one!_

Minghao finally opens his mouth, and starts talking as rapid-fire as he can, hoping his vocal chords won’t decide to stop working again because he gets nervous halfway through a sentence. “I mean, I always told myself I hated you, and I mean, I do hate the way you constantly annoy me at student council meetings and constantly ask for shit you know damn well I can’t get you ‘cause I’m working with the scantiest budget on planet Earth. Okay, maybe not planet Earth, but at least in South Korea. But I also know, or at least now I know, that that’s not the real you. I mean, the real Junhui jumped out of his car screaming bloody murder when he ran over my foot and picked me up bridal style like I weighed nothing and drove me to the hospital and stayed there with me for hours until my parents got there to take me home. The real Junhui sat there next to me in the hospital and spent an hour and a half telling me stupid jokes to distract me from the pain, and when he ran out of ones he already knew, he started fucking Googling them ‘cause he was just _that_ dedicated and cared _that_ much. The real Junhui dragged me out into the hallway to have this conversation because he recognized when he’d gone too far and is now standing here trying to put a stop to all of this bullshit.”

Minghao stops to take a breath, putting a hand up to let Junhui know not to interrupt because he’s not done talking. “And that night in the hospital, I made a promise to myself that I would never like you, in any way, shape, or form, and keeping that promise was easy ‘cause the next time I saw you, you’d turned into the most annoying asshole I’d ever met. But now it’s harder ‘cause now I know the sweet, warm-hearted you from the hospital _was_ the real you, and I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you’re saying you like me, I’m saying I think I might like you too, at least a little bit.” He takes another deep breath, and adds, “You can talk now, by the way, I’m done.”

Junhui looks like he’s about to smile, laugh, and cry all at the same time. He remains quiet for a moment before he says anything, and Minghao understands. He said a _lot_ , and it’s a lot to process. “So, um, yeah. Yes, okay. Uh, do you wanna, like... _fuck_ , I’m sorry I’m so bad at this, but would you be down to, like, grab coffee and go for a walk in the park with me sometime, or...would that be too far-fetched?”

Minghao hears Jeonghan’s voice echo down the hallway, the words, “Did I just hear someone say, ‘Do you wanna fuck’?” carrying through the air. He rolls his eyes, and whispers to Junhui, “Sorry about him, but yeah, that sounds nice. How does Saturday at noon sound?”

Junhui is looking at Minghao like he’s not sure if what’s happening is real or just some cruel fucked-up dream, and there’s an adorable dopey grin on his face as he replies, “Saturday at noon sounds perfect,” followed by, “Pinch me as hard as you fucking can, please.”

“I’m not gonna pinch you, Jun.”

“Aw, come on, please, Hao? Just do it, please.” He singsongs the ‘please’ like a whining child, and Minghao sighs.

“Fine, but you can’t turn this around on me and try to say you didn’t tell me to do it. I refuse to listen to you bitch for an hour or whatever, spewing some bullshit about ‘Oh, Minghao, it hurts!’ or ‘Ow, Minghao, why’d you pinch me so hard’, ‘cause you asked me to do this.”

He reaches out a hand and pinches Junhui’s arm as hard as he fucking can, just like Junhui asked, and just as Minghao expected, Junhui yelps, and exclaims, “Ow, Minghao, why’d you pinch me so _fucking_ hard?!”

Minghao thinks he could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this, and if you didn't like it, i hope you loved it :) if you feel so inclined as to leave a comment, that would absolutely make my day <3 i love all of you, and once again, happy jun day!


End file.
